


Clothing Wars

by Firequill



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Have a ridiculous oneshot, In which Scott and Stiles are dorks, M/M, as per usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 14:58:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5379386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firequill/pseuds/Firequill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Scott notices that Stiles is wearing his sweatshirt and takes action</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clothing Wars

“Why are you wearing my sweatshirt?” Stiles paused in the act of removing a book from his locker and looked over at Scott. His friend had his arms crossed and was eying the red sweatshirt Stiles had thrown on that morning with raised eyebrows. The look on his face was one that Stiles liked to think was reserved just for him, a particular brand of fond exasperation that no one else was capable of producing.  


“Don’t worry about it,” he said, shoving the book into his bag and slamming the locker door closed. “Really, Scotty, why are you even thinking about it at all?”  


“Because I’ve spent the last three weeks thinking I’d lost that sweatshirt?” Scott said. “When did you even take it?”  


“Just because you’re the one with the werewolf powers doesn’t mean I can’t be sneaky,” Stiles said, starting down the hallway towards their first class.  


“Yeah, I think I have plenty of evidence of that, thanks,” Scott said, falling into step next to him. “It’s just that stealing my clothes is a new use of that sneakiness.” Stiles decided that this was probably not the moment to admit that this was anything but a new tendency. In reality, he had a secret stash of Scott’s shirts at home. He likes how they feel warmer than his own clothes, likes how they smell like safety and home. When the scent starts to wear out is usually when he sneaks them back into Scott’s closet and takes something else. He’d had his eye on this sweatshirt for weeks before actually making off with it one night after Scott fell asleep during a study session.  


“It’s a good reminder for you,” he told Scott instead, “that I am totally capable of outsmarting you, alpha or not. Besides, it’s a comfy sweatshirt.”  


“I know it is, that’s why I was upset that I lost it,” Scott said with a sigh. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to give it back?”  


“Probably not,” Stiles said cheerfully. “Admit it; I make this sweatshirt look good.”  


“Well I’m not denying that,” Scott said as they reached the door to their classroom. Stiles stopped in his tracks, staring at Scott incredulously.  


“You’re not?”  


“I’m looking at you, aren’t I?” Scott said dryly, looking back at Stiles. “Just wait, I’m going to start stealing your clothes in revenge one of these days. See how you like it.” Stiles grinned and moved into the classroom, slipping into his seat next to Scott as the bell rang.  


“You’d look good in that one gray plaid shirt,” he said. “Or maybe the purple one, though that one might not fit you, your shoulders are wider than mine.”  


“I’m not taking suggestions, Stiles.”

True to his word, Scott showed up to school a few days later in one of Stiles’ favorite flannel shirts. Stiles had, of course, noticed it almost immediately. It was hard not to when Scott kept looking at him with a smug expression on his face. Stiles had to admit, he was impressed. He’d been keeping an eye on his closet when Scott was over and making sure not to fall asleep until his friend had already left. Scott must have snuck into the house one day when Stiles wasn’t around to purloin the plaid shirt. Stiles had decided not to say anything about it, but when Scott slid into the seat next to his at lunch with a smile that was somehow even more smug than it had been earlier in the day, something snapped.  


“All right, all right, you got me,” he said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “If you were any more pleased with yourself you’d be glowing, Scott.”  


“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Scott said innocently.  


“Sure you don’t.” Stiles reached over and stole one of Scott’s potato chips. “If you’re trying to negotiate an exchange, it’s not going to work.”  


“Who said anything about an exchange?” Stiles sighed and looked up at the ceiling.  


“Scott, I hope you realize that if you were going to go to all the trouble of sneaking into my house in the first place, you could have just stolen your sweatshirt back?” Out of the corner of his vision, Sties saw a surprised look cross his friend’s face. Apparently this had not, in fact, occurred to him. Stiles grinned and stole another chip.


End file.
